


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian is perplexed by all the lights and music and hustle and bustle that starts to appear around Storybrooke just after Thanksgiving, but luckily Henry helps him figure out what this "Christmas" is all about.  He makes it his mission to help Emma overcome the pain of her past so she can truly get into the spirit of the season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wtvoc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtvoc/gifts).



It all began to appear at the end of November, as far as Killian could tell. Last Thursday, Swan had invited him to join her and her family for the celebration of something called “Thanksgiving,” a holiday, as best he could tell, which consisted of gorging oneself on exorbitant amounts of food and then watching a sporting event called “football.”

The next day, the entire feel and tenor of Storybrooke changed in an instant—brightly colored lights adorning every conceivable surface, evergreen wreaths twined with ribbons, gracing doors and walls, portraits and figurines of a rather portly man with a long white beard and a red coat wherever one looked. Most mystifying of all, the fairies, who Regina had managed to free from the sorcerer’s hat, had erected a replica of a stable in which a woman, several men, cows, horses and a donkey knelt before a tiny baby lying in what looked like a manger. 

Even the music that blared from every shop and eating establishment had changed. It appeared a holiday entitled “Christmas” was fast approaching.  Judging by the songs of the season, Christmas involved a jolly man who drove a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer (one of which had a red, glowing nose), a deity who came to earth as an infant born of a virgin, families and loved ones spending time together, peace and goodwill among all, and gift giving.

It was utterly bewildering.

Killian sat in his booth in the diner, sipping his coffee and waiting for Swan’s lad to join him for breakfast when the most perplexing sight of all met his eyes.

The bell above the door chimed, and Killian’s eyes widened as he watched a very bad-tempered Leroy step inside dragging a gigantic fir tree behind him. A generous coat of snow covered the dwarf from head to foot and fell from the tree in clumps.

“Leroy!” Granny bellowed. “You’re tracking snow all over my diner.  What do you think you’re _doing_?”

“Sorry, sister,” Leroy muttered in a voice which proved he was anything but. “You asked me to bring you a Christmas tree, and a Christmas tree I brought.  Ain’t my fault Mother Nature chose today to dump on us.”

“You couldn’t have shaken the damn thing off _before_ you came in?” Granny continued, her hands planted on her generous hips.

Leroy glared. “Look, you don’t like the way I do the job you gave me?  Do it yourself.”

Granny rolled her eyes, and then threw up her hands. “Fine, just put it in the corner, get it decorated and stop blocking my doorway.”

Christmas involved bringing trees indoors and decorating them? What an odd custom.

Leroy grumbled under his breath as he hoisted the massive fir onto his shoulder and crept laboriously toward the corner Granny indicated. He fought with the tree for some time, cursing under his breath as he tried…and failed…to hold it steady while simultaneously securing it in the stand Granny had placed in the far corner.

“Hey pirate!” Leroy called from beneath the tree’s boughs. “I could use a hand or two.”

Killian grinned, set his coffee back upon the table and got to his feet. “Alas, dwarf, I have but one to lend.”

Leroy emerged from the tree and fixed a surly scowl on Killian. “Not in the mood for jokes.  Just get your leather clad ass over here!”

Killian sketched a mocking bow and ambled in the dwarf’s direction. “As you’ve deigned to ask so politely, I’m at your service.  What precisely do you need of me?”

“Just hold the damn thing steady while I get it screwed in.”

Killian complied, holding the tree still, while Leroy tightened screws fastening the trunk into a stand of sorts.

“Now, next job: untangle the lights and string them on the tree,” Leroy commanded.

“Er…” Killian said, scratching behind his ear, “what the bloody hell does that mean?”

Leroy glared for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Don’t you know _anything_ about Christmas?  Grab that string of lights over there, untangle it, and wrap it around the tree.”

The bell over the door chimed once more, and Killian looked up to see Henry, rosy cheeked from the cold and bundled within an inch of his life, walk in. Mentally heaving a sigh of relief, he turned to Leroy.  “Sorry, mate,” he said, “I’ve plans to dine with Swan’s lad.  I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else to assist you.”

Leroy continued to mutter as Killian made his way back to his booth, but otherwise, mercifully, kept his opinions to himself.

“Hey Killian!” Henry called as he peeled off his hat, scarf, gloves and coat and plopped down in the booth.

“Good morning lad,” Killian greeted with an affectionate ruffle of the boy’s hair, “how are you this frigid morning?”

“Starving,” Henry said, grabbing a menu. “I could eat an elephant.”

Killian laughed. Such was the lot of a pre-teen boy.  Swan had complained just last night that her lad was eating her out of house and home.  “I’ve yet to see elephant on Granny’s menu.  Suppose we settle for pancakes and bacon?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Killian flagged down Ruby, who appeared with the lad’s usual hot cocoa with cinnamon.   He placed their orders, and then sat back in his seat, watching with amusement as Henry swiped a generous dollop of cream from the top of his beverage with one finger and then happily licked it clean.

“So why’d you ask me to have breakfast with you?” Henry asked after taking his first sip and sighing with contentment.

Killian grinned. “Does a man need a reason to ask his mate to dine with him?”

“Well, no,” Henry said, “but when you called last night, you said you had things you wanted to discuss.”

“True enough,” Killian remarked after taking another swig of his coffee. “As the days pass, it becomes increasingly evident to me that I need to ascertain just what this ‘Christmas’ holiday entails.  I asked you mum about it, but she seemed unwilling to discuss the matter.”

A shadow passed across the lads face. Killian watched him closely.

“Yeah,” Henry said, uncomfortably, “she doesn’t seem to want to have anything to do with Christmas. I was hoping now that she’s gotten settled in her new apartment, she’d let me help her decorate, but she doesn’t want to put up a tree or stockings or make cookies or anything.”

“These are traditions of the holiday?”

“Yeah, and Mom wouldn’t even discuss any of it,” Henry took another sip and frowned. “It was kind of like that last year too.  She finally put up a tree for me, but she really didn’t want to.”

“And it’s important to you to observe these traditions?” Killian asked carefully, trying to assess the root of the lad’s obvious unhappiness.

Henry shrugged. “Yeah, but, I mean, it’s not that.  My other mom is doing all the Christmas stuff and so are Grandma and Grandpa.  It’s just that I’m worried about Mom.  It doesn’t seem like she’s just being a Grinch or something; Christmas seems to really upset her.”

What precisely was a “Grinch?” No matter.  The import of the lad’s words was clear enough.  “Would you like me to talk to you mum?”

“I was hoping you would,” Henry admitted. “If anyone can make her feel better it’s you.”

Killian grinned. “It would be my pleasure, Henry.  I’ve plans to meet your mother for lunch.  I’ll broach the subject then.”

“Thanks, I’m really glad she has you.” Henry looked away uncomfortably.  “Look, Killian, about what I said back when the Shattered Sight spell hit…”

Killian waved the lad’s words away with a negligent move of his hook. “Don’t concern yourself mate.  You were cursed; I’d hardly take your words to heart.”

“Still,” Henry said, “I just, you know, wanted you to know that I didn’t mean it. I do like you, and, well, I like how happy you make my mom.  I never saw her this happy, even when she was just about engaged to Walsh.”

Killian clapped Henry on the shoulder. “It’s mutual lad.  I enjoy the time we spend together, and I love your mother more than life itself.  I must say it’s heartening to hear that I make her happier than a charlatan in simian form.”

The wolf girl returned with two steaming plates of pancakes. Killian grinned in amusement as he watched Henry tuck into his breakfast with the gusto of one who hadn’t eaten in a week.  When the lad’s worst pangs of hunger were apparently sated, Killian returned to the subject at hand.

“Now, to return to the original topic of this discussion. I was content to merely watch the town’s dealings with regard to Christmas until I received your grandmother’s invitation to the town Christmas party.  Now I find it incumbent upon myself to learn what is expected of me with regard to this holiday.  For example, what precisely does a ‘dirty Santa gift exchange’ entail?”

Mary Margaret, as the current mayor of Storybrooke, had evidently decided that the best way to foster town unity and holiday spirit was to throw a party upon the occasion of Christmas. It was to be held on the eve of Christmas itself, and Swan’s mum had assured him that it would be an evening filled with joy and laughter.  She’d further assured him that he was free to spike his cup of eggnog with as much rum as he pleased.

“It’s awesome,” Henry said around a mouthful of bacon. “It’s kind of like a gift exchange and a game all wrapped up together.  Everybody brings a wrapped present, and then…”

The lad went on to describe a game worthy of a pirate—full of theft, strategy and the winning of loot.

“So, it would seem gift giving is an important part of this holiday?” Killian asked.

“Yeah,” Henry said, drawing out the syllable. “It’s not, like, the most _important_ part of Christmas, but people like to give each other gifts at this time of year.  It’s a way to show people that you care about them.”

“Aye,” Killian said, nodding his head, “but that leads me to my next question. What precisely is a man expected to give to the woman he loves?  I’ve heard multiple renditions of a song which seems to provide a roadmap, but I find it difficult to believe that Swan would wish me to gift her with drummers and pipers and lords and dancers and multiple aviary creatures.  And what use could she possibly have for eight maids a-milking?”

Henry chuckled. “That’s just a song; no one actually gives their true love that kind of stuff!  But can I be there if you decide to give my mom eleven pipers piping?  Please?”

Killian took a bite of his breakfast and grinned. “I think I’ll avoid that particular spectacle.  I must say, I’m much relieved.  I hadn’t a clue where I was to find ten lords a-leaping.  If that quite motley list is not an example of the proper Christmas gifts for a man to give his true love, what is?”

Henry shrugged. “Nothing in particular, I don’t think.  Just give her something heartfelt—something that shows her how you feel about her.”

“That, I believe I can manage.”

Henry shook his head in evident disgust. “I’m sure you can.  You and mom are so sappy together it’s kind of sickening.”

Killian ruffled the lad’s hair again. “Just wait, Henry.  Your day will come.  One day you’ll find true love, and then you’ll be as ‘sappy’ as anyone.”

“Maybe,” Henry said skeptically. “So is that all you wanted to know?”

“I have but one more question to ask,” Killian said, dragging his last bite of pancake through his remaining syrup. He took his bite, chewed thoughtfully, and then looked at the lad.  “It seems mistletoe is quite important given its prominence in the music I’ve heard during the past week.  To my knowledge, it’s nothing but a weed, something of a nuisance.  Might I inquire what its purpose is during Christmastime?”

Henry groaned, and then buried his face within his hands. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise you’ll _never_ use it with mom when I’m around.”

 

_Notes: Merry Christmas!  This is the first installment of a Christmas related 3-shot written for this-too-too-sullied-flesh during the Tumbler cs secret Santa event this year.  As I eagerly await the colder weather the weatherman tells me we MIGHT get come Christmas Eve,  I find myself in the Christmas spirit, so consider this my Christmas gift to not only this-too-too-sullied-flesh, but to all my loyal readers and followers!_

_\--Killian is having a great deal of difficulty figuring out all these strange Christmas customs in Storybrooke, but luckily Henry’s around to set him straight!_

_\--Up next, Killian takes Emma to lunch (and for a walk in the snowy woods), and gets to the bottom of just why she’s so resistant to anything related to Christmas. In true Killian fashion, he helps lift her spirits and get over some wounds from her past._

 


	2. Walking in a Winter Wonderland

“Looks like your boyfriend learned about Christmas,” David said dryly as he pushed open the sheriff’s station door.           

Emma elbowed her way past her father to have a look and then barked out a laugh.  A veritable forest of mistletoe hung above her desk and chair.  David was right; it couldn’t be the work of anyone but her adorable idiot of a pirate.

“Although if he really wanted to get you to kiss him,” David continued, draping his winter coat over the back of his own chair, “he would have hung it inside one of the jail cells.  We left the station locked when we went on rounds, so I’m pretty sure this qualifies as breaking and entering.”

Emma grinned.  “Cut him some slack, Dad.  There are far, far worse things he could have done, don’t you think?”

“That depends,” David replied with a frown.

“Yeah?  On what?”

“Whether or not he makes use of the mistletoe when I’m around.”

Emma laughed again, still amazed at the happiness that was her life at the moment.  Seriously, who would have thought that Emma Swan, the unloved, unwanted orphan would one day have to deal with an overzealous pirate boyfriend and an overprotective father?

“I’ll make him behave,” Emma promised.  “At least while you’re around.”

David grimaced.  “You had to tack on that last part?”

“Yep,” Emma replied, taking a seat.  “Deal with it Dad; your little girl’s dating a pirate.  Bound to be some…um…misbehavior.  Probably on both our parts.”

David groaned.

Her dad put up a good show, but Emma knew that’s all it was—a show.  The bromance was strong with these two.  Emma didn’t know who was happier that her relationship with Killian was still going strong, her or her dad.

A month had passed since Gold’s sorcerer’s hat stunt, and they were all still reeling from it to various extents.  She’d had nightmares about it every night for a solid two weeks following the incident.  Nightmares where they didn’t make it in time.  Nightmares where she, her mom and Belle arrived at the clock tower a moment _after_ Gold had finished crushing Killian’s heart into a fine powder.  She’d woken up shaking and bathed in sweat. 

If Gold had succeeded…she couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence.  The very thought scared her more than anything in her life had _ever_ scared her.

It was in that moment when she was frozen in place, helpless to protect Killian, that she gave up the last bit of pretense.  She loved him; there was no denying it.  Just the sight of him was enough to make the butterflies to start tap dancing in her stomach.

“What do you think of my first attempt at decorating for the season?” 

_Speak of the devil_. 

Killian strode in with the confidence (and looks) of a fashion model.  He leaned down, brushed a kiss against her cheek and then straightened with the grin she’d come to learn meant trouble.

“Not bad,” she said, “but you know people usually just hang one sprig of mistletoe, not a whole garden.”

He tsked, and frowned at her playfully.  “And where would be the fun in that?  I’d prefer to increase my chances of finding myself under it with a fetching lass rather than limit them.”

He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her.  “Speaking of which, it appears you and I are currently standing beneath a particularly hearty specimen.  Holiday traditions must be observed, darling.  Good form and all.”

She grinned and looped her arms around his neck.  “So what are you waiting for?”

His smile turned distinctly wicked.  “Not a thing in the world, love.”

A wildfire raged between them at the first touch of his lips to hers.  It was always like this between them; like someone had tossed a lit match on a mountain of dry kindling.  Emma tilted her head, instantly deepening the kiss, reveling in the feel of his hand in her hair anchoring her to him, his hook at her back urging her closer.

David cleared his throat.  Loudly.  Whatever adjectives could be used to describe her father, “subtle” was not one of them.  Emma pulled away with an apologetic look at her boyfriend, then turned to face her dad.  Killian reached down and laced his fingers with hers.

“You guys mind?” David asked with a hint of exasperation.  “This is a place of business after all.”

“Funny,” Killian said with a smirk, “you seemed to be singing an entirely different tune that night last week when I walked in to find you and your lovely wife similarly expressing your affection.”

David spluttered.  “That’s…that’s different!”

“Aye?  How so?”

“It’s different because…because…well, because it just is.”

Killian laughed with such good humor that soon even David joined in.  “Look,” her father finally said, “I’m glad you two are happy together, I really am, but could you keep the PDA to a minimum while I’m around?  Please?”

Killian sketched a bow.  “I shall endeavor to control myself, but confronted with your daughter’s ravishing beauty, I am, more often than not, unable to express my admiration any other way.”

Emma laughed and swatted him playfully.  “You are so full of it.”

“Aye,” he returned with a flirtatious wink, “but I noticed you failed to put up a protest at my ‘PDA’ a moment ago.”

“I’ll admit,” she returned, placing her free hand over his heart, a gesture she found herself making more and more frequently since his ordeal with Gold, “kissing you is kind of addicting.  So, what’s up?  We weren’t supposed to meet for lunch for another hour or so.”

“I’ve come to steal you away, love,” He said, giving her hand a squeeze.  “The snow has bathed the woods in a blanket of loveliness, and I wish to share it with my favorite lass.”

“I can’t just go take a stroll in the woods,” Emma said.  “For one thing, it’s cold.  For another, I’ve got work to do.  And did I mention, it’s cold?”

The look on his face was two parts puppy and one part wicked.  “If we don’t go, I’ll be forced to hang around and, no doubt, nauseate your father.  We wouldn’t want that, now would we?  Besides, I’m…more than capable of keeping you warm.”

“Ugh,” David said.  “Emma just go with him.  I’ll cover for you.”

“Well,” Emma said, grabbing her coat and hat, “if you both insist…”

“We do,” David and Killian said in unison.

 

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

 

Emma had to admit it _was_ beautiful and peaceful out here. And with Killian’s arm draped around her, surprisingly warm as well.  On impulse, she reached up and pecked him on the cheek. 

“And what was that delightful gesture for, Swan?”

She shrugged.  “No reason.  Just…thank you.  You were right.  It’s nice to get away from the craziness of the town for a while.”

He smiled, making the crow’s feet stand at attention at the edges of his eyes.  “Darling, when are you going to finally realize that I’m always right?”

Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the grin from her face.  “Don’t hold your breath, pirate.”

“Thought as much,” Killian muttered under his breath.

Emma had never been a big fan of winter.  She hated the cold, and the snow drove her crazy—especially now that she was the sheriff and was called to every fender bender and slide-off in the whole damn town.  Killian, however, seemed to have an entirely different opinion on the matter.  His face was lit up with the wonder and awe of a child as he trudged through the ankle-deep snow and watched the flurries continue to drift down.

“You seem to be enjoying this weather,” she observed, reaching up to feather her fingers through his hair and dislodge the stubborn snowflakes that had evidently decided to take up residence there.

“Aye,” he said, looking down at her with a delighted grin.  “Always reminds me of a day I spent with Liam many, many years ago.”

Emma perked up at the mention of Killian’s brother.  “You never talk about him.  I always assumed the memories were too painful for you.”

Killian smiled tenderly.  “Aye, some memories are.  It seems no matter how many centuries go by, the sting of his passing will never truly fade.  I do, however, have many, many pleasant memories of him, and the day we spent in the snow is certainly one of those.”

“Would you tell me about it?”

“Of course,” he complied without hesitation.  “It was one of the last good memories I had of my family.  My mum died the following year, and my father was never the same after her passing.  At any rate, I was but a wee lad at the time, five, maybe six years old.  Liam was a good ten years my senior and I nearly worshiped him.  He’d just informed me that he would be leaving in less than a fortnight upon his first ship; I no longer recall her name.  He was to be a cabin boy and I’ve rarely seen a lad so excited.  I was, of course, devastated that my brother, my hero, would be leaving me in a matter of days.”

“I can only imagine,” Emma soothed.  Killian felt things so deeply; his entire heart and soul were invested when he loved.  Liam’s departure must have hit him _hard._

“Aye,” he said with a grimace.  “Anyway, on the day in question, Liam woke me, excited about the newly fallen snow.  We two spent the entire day reveling in it—making snowmen and snow fortifications.  Engaging in a rather ruthless snowball fight.  It was a day I wouldn’t trade for all the rum in the Enchanted Forest.”

“It sounds great.”

“Aye, that it was.”

They lapsed into silence for a time.  Emma rested her head against his shoulder, and she felt him brush a kiss against the crown of her head.

“So how was your breakfast with Henry?” Emma asked.

“Informative,” Killian said, and Emma could hear the smile in his voice.  “The lad is a wealth of information.  He seems quite excited for this Christmas holiday.”

Emma sighed.  “Yeah.  Seems like it’s all he can talk about.”

Killian looked over at her.  “From your tone, I take it you don’t share his sentiments?”

“No.”  The word was definitive, emphatic.

“The lad told me as much,” Killian admitted.  “He was concerned that you seem unwilling to participate in this realms Christmas traditions.”

Emma grimaced.  “I was hoping it would be enough for him to get all the Christmas crap at Regina’s or my mom and dad’s.”

Killian stopped walking and turned her toward him.  “The lad didn’t come to me because he needs more Christmas; he came to me because he’s worried about you.”

Henry was worried about her?  Because of Christmas?  “He doesn’t need to be.  I’m fine.”

Killian looked at her skeptically.  “Swan, I’ve seen you ‘fine’.  I’ve seen you happy.  I’ve seen you content.  You are feeling none of those emotions.  This ‘Christmas’ is obviously a source of pain for you.  Please, tell me why that is.”

Emma sighed.  There really was no point trying to hide anything from this man.  “It’s just…I don’t know.  Christmas is all about family and happiness and being together and stuff.”

“And these are bad things?”  At some point, Killian brought his good hand up to cup her face, and he was gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. 

“No…”  Emma drew out the syllable.  “Not in general, but for an unwanted little girl in the group homes it was torture.  I mean, everywhere you turned you’d get assaulted with images of happy little families doing happy little family things.  Every time you turned on the TV you’d see commercials and movies and everything else where everyone was perfectly happy and enjoying each other’s company.  The songs talk about it being the happiest time of the year, or about how people love going home for the holidays or the love of family.  You know what it was for me?  It was a slap in the face.  It was yet another reminder that I’d never had that and probably never would.”

The compassion in Killian’s eyes nearly broke her.  He dropped his hand from her face and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight.  She clung to him, drinking in the love he offered her.

“Emma,” he whispered., “there are so many, many people who love you.  So many, many people who would do anything to make you happy.”

The tears rushed to her eyes.  “I know, and it means everything in the world to me.  It’s just—I don’t know.  Childhood memories die hard.  I don’t know if I can even do all the ‘happy family Christmas’ stuff.”

“But you said it yourself, love,” Killian reasoned, stroking her hair.  “Christmas isn’t about perfectly fulfilling the traditions you’re accustomed to.  It’s not about living up to the standards you believe the ‘perfect’ families attained.  It’s not about fulfilling a checklist of Christmas items.  It’s about being with the ones you love; showing them how much you care.”

Killian pulled away.  “Let us love you,” he said simply.  “Let us show you how much you mean to all of us.  Let us build our own traditions, our own memories.  Perhaps they won’t erase the pain of the past, but trust me love, the good memories, the beautiful moments—they shine as brightly as the star Leroy attempted to force me to place on the top of Granny’s tree—if you but let them.  They are like the sun that blots out the light of the stars.  Losing Liam to dreamshade—it was one of the darkest days of my life.  The pain of losing my brother, the man who was captain and brother and hero to me, was such that words cannot describe.  Even so, traumatic as that day was, it cannot hold a candle to the simple joy of that day spent playing in the snow. ”

“I wish I’d met Liam,” Emma said with a wistful smile.

“As do I love,” Killian said.  “He would have liked you—and would have thanked his lucky stars that I’d finally found myself a beautiful blonde savior to point me back to the man I wish to be.”

Emma stroked his face.  “He’d be proud of you, Killian.  You’re a good man; one of the best and most honorable I know.”

Killian turned his head and brushed a kiss against her palm.  “You can have no idea how sweet those words sound coming from your lips.  I have but one bit of advice for you, love: don’t run from the love of family and the joys of Christmas all around you.  Make new memories, good memories.  I can promise you; you won’t regret it.”

Emma reached up and brushed a soft kiss against his lips.  “Maybe you’re right.”

“Again with the skepticism, darling?  Didn’t we just establish I’m always right?”

Emma chuckled.  “Whatever.  I’m hungry.  Are you going to take me to lunch or not?”

Killian sketched a bow.  “My lady’s wish is my command.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--Christmas is a time of great joy and excitement—a time of anticipation and wish fulfillment. For those suffering heartache of any kind, however, this time of year can be nothing short of torture. The happiness of those they see around them almost seems to mock their pain. I kind of wanted to play that concept up in this chapter. With the difficult childhood she had, it must have been difficult for Emma to see happy families observing all the traditional Christmas rituals. It must have made her feel her own loneliness that much stronger. I think Killian makes some good points, though. We can’t undo the pains of the past; all we can hope to do (as Charming mentioned to Emma in 3x10) is live and savor the good moments.  
> \--Up next, Emma and Killian return to her apartment after the town’s Christmas Eve party.


	3. 'Twas the Night Before Christmas

Killian surged forward, lips crashing against hers, body pressing her to the immutable surface of her apartment door, arms binding her to him.

Good thing too.  At the touch of his lips against hers, the sensation of his tongue seeking entrance, the feel of his heart racing beneath her hand trapped between them, Emma sagged and her knees threatened to buckle altogether.

Emma opened for him, moaning his name as his tongue came to tangle with hers.  She rose to her toes, threading her fingers through his hair, seeking to bring him ever closer, they would never be close enough. 

Her apartment complex was normally a busy bustling place, but tonight, at 11:30 on Christmas Eve night, it was as empty as Gold’s black heart.  Just as well.  The way she and Killian were going at it, anyone passing by was liable to get quite the show—and definitely not one suited to children.

With a groan Killian pulled away, but Emma was having none of it.  She wasn’t done kissing him yet; not nearly.  She chased his lips with her own, giving her pirate no quarter.

“Emma,” he moaned, as he gave up all attempt at resistance and met her head on.

They’d just returned from the town Christmas party at Granny’s.  Her mom had really outdone herself with that one.  The food, laughter and eggnog flowed abundantly.  Everyone seemed to have imbibed the Christmas spirit, buoyed, no doubt by the fact that they’d gone a full month without a villain in sight. 

It seemed Killian had enjoyed his first Christmas party.  He’d particularly enjoyed the dirty Santa gift exchange, throwing himself into the spirit of the game with wild abandon.  He’d put his pirate skills to good use, stealing one after another of his neighbors’ gifts.  Emma suspected it was more for the thrill of mayor-sanctioned theft than it was for the actual gifts he’d gained.  She laughingly said as much to him as he gleefully stole a bottle of lavender-scented bath salts from under Ruby’s very nose.

“You’re really going to tell me you want girly bath salts?” she’d teased.

“And why not?” he’d asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes.  “I happen to be well aware that you favor the scent of lavender.  It was my hope that were I to acquire these salts I might persuade you to…um…help me put them to use.”

When all was said and done, Killian had been left with a gift certificate for free dinner at Granny’s for a week.  She….well, she’d made a last minute swap for the bath salts, a fact that made Killian’s eyes light up like a kid let loose in a candy shop.

When the party broke up, Killian walked her back to her apartment door where he was currently kissing her so thoroughly she could barely remember her own name.

After long moments, Killian pulled away and then rested his forehead against hers.  “Best we slow down love,” he said breathlessly.  “Much longer, and we’re bound to start a conflagration that will consume this entire building.”

“Yeah,” she said, equally breathless.  “But what a way to go.”

He laughed and took a step back.  “I suppose it’s time I take my leave.  You’re to be at your parents’ bright and early tomorrow for Christmas morning festivities.”

Emma took hold of the lapels of Killian’s coat and gave him another quick peck.  “You mean _we’re_ to be at my parents’ bright and early.”

He looked suddenly uncertain.  “I don’t wish to impose.  It is after all a family event.”

Emma shook her head, her heart turning over with tenderness for this man.  “When are you going to learn that you _are_ family?  We all want you there, and I, well, I’d really miss you if you bailed on us.  Besides, if you don’t join us for Christmas morning, when am I going to get to give you my gift?”

“You bought me a gift?”  His voice was awestruck.

“Of course!  I have a feeling you’re going to like it too.”

Emma knew how much he enjoyed reading.  His cabin on the _Jolly Roger_ had been practically covered, floor to ceiling with books.  She’d bought him as many of this realm’s pirate tales and stories as she could get her hands on.

“There’s no doubt of that, love,” he said gently.  “I have a gift for you as well, but I have been assured that Christmas is the day for gift giving.  It would be quite bad form to spoil my surprise the night before.”

“All the more reason to join us in the morning.”

His smile turned infinitely tender, and he cupped her cheek.  “I’d love to be there, Swan.  Which is, of course, why I’d best take my leave so that you can get your rest for the big day.”

Emma’s eyes flitted away from his for a moment before focusing back on him.  “Stay with me tonight?  Henry’s staying with Regina, and, well, no one should have to spend Christmas Eve alone.”

Killian dragged in a ragged breath.  “I’d be honored to spend the remainder of Christmas Eve with you.

Emma unlocked her apartment, gave Killian another quick kiss and then waved him in behind her.  “Go ahead and plug in the tree; maybe see about starting a fire.  I’ll make us some cocoa.”

After their conversation in the woods, Killian and Henry had tag teamed her until she’d agreed to just about every Christmas tradition Henry could think of.  The three of them had bought and cut down a Christmas tree, decorated the thing within an inch of its life (Killian’s hook being surprisingly handy in the endeavor), hung all three of their stockings by the chimney with care, and baked and decorated what felt like enough Christmas cookies for the entire town.  When Killian learned of the tradition of sending people Christmas cards, he’d even convinced her to send the damn things out—complete with a photo of the three of them sitting before the fire, steaming mugs of cocoa in hand, the lit tree in the background.

It was cheesy as hell.

She loved it.

She finished preparing their drinks—which for her consisted of boiling water and pouring it over packets of cocoa mix—and then headed for the living room.

“Well, you’ve made good use of your time,” she said with a smile.  The tree was lit, a roaring fire crackled in the hearth, and a smug pirate sat on the rug before it, surrounded by pillows.

“I aim to please darling.” 

She sat beside him, depositing their cocoa on the end table and settling in his waiting arms.

“I do believe you’re forgetting something, love,” he said, mischief in every syllable.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Look and see for yourself.”

Emma sat up and stifled a laugh.  The idiot sat before her holding the largest sprig of mistletoe she’d ever seen.  She leaned forward and kissed him playfully.  “You’re insatiable.”

“Aye,” he said, returning the kiss with exuberance, “but you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

Without warning, it all crashed over her once again.  She’d nearly lost him.  His heart had nearly been crushed in front of her, and she’d been powerless to stop it.  The memory made her start to shake, and Emma clung to Killian so tightly he’d end up with bruises in the morning.  She buried her face in his neck and breathed him in, her hand slipping beneath his shirt to rest over his heart.  She needed this; she needed the confirmation that he was still there, that his heart was still where it belonged.

“Emma, love,” he said, rubbing her back, “is something the matter?”

Emma forced herself to sit up and look him in the eye.  If nearly losing him had taught her anything, it was that every day with this man was a gift—a gift that could be snatched from her at any moment.  The fact that he might have died not knowing, not _truly_ knowing how she felt about him was like a slap to the face.   She needed to remedy that.  Immediately.  Emma was terrified to say the words, but it was time; it was far past time.

“Killian, I…I just need you to know something.”

“Very well, Swan,” he said hesitantly, “you do know there is nothing you cannot tell me, do you not?”

“Yeah,” She took a deep breath and then plunged in.  “It’s just that…well, I don’t know how to do this but just come out and say it:  I love you.  I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.  It scares the hell out of me, but, well, I just needed you to know.  Whatever happens, no matter how many evil villains try to tear us apart, I needed you to know.  I need you to…”

He leaned forward and captured her lips, effectively cutting off what was threatening to turn into babbling.  This kiss was different, soft, gentle, unhurried.  Emma reached up between them and caressed his face with gentle strokes.  This was _right_.  This man was _it_ for her.  If he’d died up there in the clock tower she didn’t know how she’d ever have survived it.”

“I love you too,” he whispered as he finally pulled away.  “Until the end of time, I’ll love you. With every breath I take, every beat of my heart, I love you. There’ll never be another for me but you.”

She grinned against his chest.  “Better not be.”

“No other lass stands the ghost of a chance against you.  I swear to be unfailingly true to you until I take my last breath and long, long after.”

“I know,” she said tremulously.  “And you can expect the same from me.”

He gathered her back into her arms and they sat in silence for some time.  When he spoke again, the teasing note was back in his voice.  “So, Swan, how do you propose we while away the rest of this Christmas Eve?”

She sat back and gave him a grin.  “Well, I was thinking we could resume that make out session we had going on outside…and then we could, kind of, see where that takes us.”

“That, Swan, is the best idea you’ve had all year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--So there you have it. The kiss outside the apartment door was obviously inspired by the 4x11 kiss at Granny’s.  
> \--I wanted to add in a CS gift exchange in this last chapter, but it just didn’t seem to flow right. In case you were wondering, Killian got Emma a diamond necklace (making some ridiculously romantic speech about how diamonds are like their love—hardships and difficulties only make them stronger, more resilient and more beautiful) in the shape of a swan. In addition to the pirate tales Emma got Killian, she also performed the spell Regina performed over Henry—the one that ensured his heart could no longer be taken.  
> \--Emma didn’t take down the mistletoe from over her desk at the sheriff’s station until mid-January. Charming grumbled every time he saw it—and even more every time Killian and Emma made use of it. This, of course, made Killian, irreverent pirate king that he is, even more intent on using it in front of the prince. I’m not sure how, but somehow the bromance survived!  
> \--I hope you’re all having a wonderful Christmas filled with all kinds of holiday themed CS fics! Only a little more than 2 months before this hiatus comes to an end. We can make it!

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! This is the first installment of a Christmas related 3-shot written for this-too-too-sullied-flesh during the Tumbler cs secret Santa event this year. As I eagerly await the colder weather the weatherman tells me we MIGHT get come Christmas Eve, I find myself in the Christmas spirit, so consider this my Christmas gift to not only this-too-too-sullied-flesh, but to all my loyal readers and followers!  
> \--Killian is having a great deal of difficulty figuring out all these strange Christmas customs in Storybrooke, but luckily Henry’s around to set him straight!  
> \--Up next, Killian takes Emma to lunch (and for a walk in the snowy woods), and gets to the bottom of just why she’s so resistant to anything related to Christmas. In true Killian fashion, he helps lift her spirits and get over some wounds from her past.


End file.
